


Buzz [Cut it Out, Cut it Off]

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Universe, Coping, Feelings, Gen, Mild Language, One Shot, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 20:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19875979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: In the World of Ruin, Noctis's friends have to learn how to cope with his absence.Sometimes, a hair cut is more than just a style choice.





	Buzz [Cut it Out, Cut it Off]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteriousBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousBean/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Chop](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/500083) by MysteriousBean. 



> I started out with a way more light-hearted draft with a completely different scenario--then my hand slipped.

It was dark outside—it had been for the past thirty days. Prompto was beginning to think he’d never see the sun again. He had turned on every light in the caravan just to pretend like it was daylight before closing his eyes and picturing the sun, brilliant and hot, beating down on his face, creating new freckles and tinging his cheeks pink.

Ignis would have yelled at him to put on sunscreen, but Ignis wasn’t around now. He’d left for Lestallum as soon as Noctis had… _disappeared._

‘Disappeared’ was the nice way of putting it. 

He’d gotten sucked into that godsdamned crystal, and now—

Now there was no sunshine in their lives, literal or otherwise.

Prompto had his head leaned back on the window, legs stretched out straight so that they dangled over the edge of the bench seat and into the aisle of the caravan’s combined kitchen and dining area. He heard the doorknob jiggle, followed by the creaking of the door, and opened one eye to see Gladio step into view, face smudged with dirt and hair frizzy from trekking across the countryside. He was too tall for the cramped camper, his head brushing the ceiling so that he had to duck in places. Without glancing at Prompto, he squeezed past him for the bathroom, big enough for a toilet and a standup shower, but little else.

Prompto didn’t say anything. What was there to say?

It was the same shit, day in and day out. Fight daemons, rescue any stragglers they found, go to bed and get up the next day to do it all again.

Prompto closed his eyes again and listened to the sounds of Hammerhead outside. People had been flocking to the station since the darkness fell, hunters in particular. The hum of engines never stopped, providing white noise that Prompto had grown so accustomed to that he found it difficult to sleep without it (not that he slept much nowadays). The constant flurry of activity also meant that Cid and Cindy were kept busy—lucky them.

What Prompto wouldn’t give for a distraction.

Sighing heavily, Prompto whipped out his phone once he heard the shower turn on, figuring he could at least play a game or something while he waited for Gladio to finish. They’d eat their diner food in silence and say goodnight, spreading out to opposite ends of the cabin. It would have been easiest to sleep side-by-side, but even just the close contact brought to mind too many painful memories, so Prompto slept in the booth and Gladio claimed one of the twin mattresses in the back.

As Prompto scrolled through his apps, he swiped past King’s Knight. If he logged in, Noctis’s username would show at the top of his ‘Friends’ list with an inactive symbol next to it, letters grayed out.

The first time he’d seen it, he had cried like a baby. Luckily, Gladio hadn’t been around to witness it. Prompto hadn’t played it since.

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, he opted for something simpler—Cactuar Crush, a relatively mindless matching game. He must have hit the screen wrong though, because his camera gallery opened instead, causing him to inhale sharply as a picture flashed onto the interface.

It was a selfie he had taken with Noctis at Wiz’s Chocobo Post, the two of them standing on either side of a chocobo they had rented that day.

 _Hey, look Prompto, we found your long-lost cousin_ , Noctis had joked.

 _My hair does_ not _look like a chocobo butt!_ Prompto had insisted as the prince laughed at him.

In the picture, their faces showed the strain of their smiles, dimples in their cheeks. It made Prompto’s heart ache the longer he looked at it, but unable to help himself, he began to flip through the rest of his photos, overwhelmed by memories that he had been working hard to suppress.

There was the GINORMOUS fish Noctis had reeled in at the Vesperpool, the four of them hunched beneath its weight.

Noctis sitting on a bench with Kenny Crow, making a goofy face as he gave a thumbs-up.

The four of them posing at the end of the pier at Galdin Quay, the ocean sparkling like a thousand diamonds in the background.

One of his favorites, the whole gang with the Regalia in front of the Hammerhead garage, Prompto’s arms spread wide as a non-verbal ‘ta-da!’

He marveled at how happy and carefree they all looked. It felt like it had been years, not weeks.

 _I miss you_ , he thought, and immediately felt moisture stinging hot at the corners of his eyes.

The water cut off in the bathroom and Prompto hurried to wipe the tears away as the door opened, Gladio stepping out in only a towel. Prompto glanced up from under his damp lashes, watching the steam billow into the room as Gladio turned to get dressed, noticing that his hair was freshly cut, buzzed short under the thick locks that cascaded down to his shoulders.

It might have been because he was emotionally compromised, or maybe it was just a sudden surge of recklessness—but the words were out before he could stop himself, Gladio turning even as he was opening his mouth.

“Hey Gladio, do you think you could cut my hair?”

Gladio’s held tilted and he frowned, lips pursing slightly. “You want _me_ to cut your hair?”

“Yeah—you know, like _that_.” Prompto motioned to the sides of his own head to indicate Gladio’s undercut, and he watched as the bigger man’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“You want me to buzz it?” he sounded skeptical, and a little hesitant, but Prompto nodded, maintaining eye contact. After a long moment of silence, Gladio finally nodded, bending to pull on a pair of sweatpants before draping his towel on the handle of a nearby cabinet.

“If you’re sure, chocobutt,” he agreed, and the unexpected use of the nickname made Prompto’s chest pull tight, throat constricting. Swallowing hard, he jumped to his feet and squeezed into the small bathroom with Gladio behind him.

“Here, sit there,” Gladio gestured to the toilet and Prompto put the lid down so he could use it as a seat, watching as Gladio rummaged under the sink for his electric razor. He could smell the fresh scent of his shampoo, something familiar that he couldn’t name. 

With Gladio preoccupied, Prompto allowed himself to study his friend a little more closely. There were bags under his amber eyes, and his face drooped with exhaustion, jaw set like he was anticipating a fight. Some would say that Gladio was always ready to brawl, but this was different—the look was hard and violent, anger for anger’s sake, and not righteous in the way of the King’s Shield. With Noctis gone and our mission failed, he had no outlet for his need to protect others, and it had turned into unadulterated rage.

Prompto couldn’t blame him.

Once Gladio had found his electric razor, he took one step closer to Prompto, lifting his chin up with one hand. The action was surprisingly gentle, and Prompto felt his lip quiver, the feel of Gladio’s calloused fingers sending a thrill of electricity down his spine.

“You’re _really_ sure about this?” Gladio looked reluctant, holding the razor up. “It seems like a shame to cut it.” Prompto gave a short laugh, thinking back to one night at a haven when Noctis had turned over and sleepily ran a hand through his hair. He’d chuckled when Prompto mentioned it the next morning.

 _I like your hair,_ the prince had said, winking. He laughed even harder when Prompto’s blush turned his entire face crimson in embarrassment. The memory made heat pulse in his gut now, and his eyes panned upwards, idling on the ceiling vent.

“Yep. Time for a change. Can’t have it getting in the way while we’re out hunting monsters.” He tried to sound cheerful, but his tone fell flat, even in his own ears. Gladio didn’t comment on the forced levity though, much to his relief.

“All right then. Hold still.” With one deep inhale, Gladio cut the razor on, the vibrations buzzing in Prompto’s ears as he brought it to his skull. When he felt the blades begin to slide down to the skin, his breath hitched and he pressed his eyes shut, emotion making him momentarily dizzy. It was quiet save for the constant whirring of the shears. Prompto could feel the strands falling, a shiver rumbling down his arms at the sudden chill that came from having his head exposed to the open air.

When Gladio told him to turn so he could get the other side, Prompto caught sight of the pile of golden locks accumulating on the tile and he paused briefly as if to pay them homage, a cremation of the life he was leaving behind. With every strand that fell, he could feel a part of himself breaking off, like a snake shedding its skin. In a strange way the process was cathartic, and he allowed himself to open the floodgates that had been holding back his emotions, drowning in them. He felt some tears roll down his face, but this time he didn’t care if Gladio saw. They’d been through everything together—he was past the point of feeling shame. 

It didn’t take long for Gladio to finish—after all, it was only a buzz, but to Prompto it felt like he couldn’t breathe until it was over, inexplicable anxiety causing him to hold his lungs at capacity as if letting go might kill him.

“Take a look,” Gladio urged when he finished. He stepped back, giving Prompto the room to maneuver.

Prompto stood slowly and inched over until he was directly in front of the mirror, exhaling forcefully when he stared at his reflection. Gone were the long feathery tufts, ‘chocobutt’ no more. Gladio had left length on the top, but the sides were completely shaved in the traditional Crownsguard style all the way to the nape of his neck, ironically, a tradition Prompto had bucked when he first joined the prestigious group.

 _Dude, my hair_ is _me—there’s no way I’m cutting it short_ , he had once said.

Things change.

The more Prompto stared, the more he came to accept that it was indeed himself who was looking back at him and not a stranger. Feeling bolder, he lifted his hands to run them over the freshly clipped hairs, enjoying the soft, yet firm bristle against his palms. Gladio watched him, face carefully neutral.

“Well? What do you think?” Prompto turned to look at Gladio directly, and their eyes met, sparking something inside him that flickered quickly and then died.

“It’s…different.” Gladio shook his head a little, and Prompto glimpsed the pain that they were trying so hard to bury in their own ways reflected in the man’s face.

“Well. _I’m_ different,” Prompto insisted, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself. A month ago, Gladio would have argued with him—told him to snap out of it, to pull himself together, but not now. Not when they were both hurting more than they could express. Instead, Gladio shrugged, turning away to retreat to his bed, leaving Prompto to his own devices.

“I think I’m going to head out tomorrow,” Prompto announced abruptly, choosing to flop onto the other twin mattress across the aisle from Gladio’s. They were close enough that he could feel the larger man’s body heat cover him like a blanket.

There was still an incredible heaviness in Prompto’s heart, but somehow, he felt lighter--determined, and maybe--just maybe--a little bit hopeful.

“Oh? Where to?” Gladio wondered as he reached to turn off the light. The blond laid back, cradling his head in his hands, reveling in its foreignness.

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

Gladio didn’t comment on his declaration, and they laid there in silence, the sound of the world continuing around them outside the caravan’s metal walls, filling the Noctis-shaped hole in Prompto's heart.

**Author's Note:**

> It's fairly common for people who are depressed or struggling with something in their lives to chop their hair off or make some other drastic outward alteration. This typically is a result of a strong desire to change who they are on the inside by reflecting it on the outside first. It can also symbolize the act of letting go of the old in favor of something new--a fresh start.
> 
> **Don’t be shy! I respond to all comments and welcome fanart. Find me on Tumblr @hard-noct-life and Twitter @HardNoctLife**


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